At the reception that night, outdoors under a strong-mooned sky, amid the whitest of tablecloths, amid the white chairs and so many lilies, we ate and bought cigars from the waiters on the sly and then everyone moved for the dancefloor and I didn't know if I could dance too but my pregnant friend pulled me out and, sober, I jumped around with her, as she laughed and laughed. My back felt good and my head was clear! When she left with her husband I stayed, and I danced with the bride, and with the groom, and with the tiny flower girls, and with the wild-haired bridesmaid whose hand at the small of my back was the grip of great strength and utter determination -
And soon there were only twenty of us left – the parents and children had gone home – and we danced until two and then three to Slade and Quiet Riot and Cyndi Lauper, her voice tearing through us with its bloody wailing grieving hope – the deejay, from Cuernevaca, knew everything and knew joy and how to maintain and even elevate joy – and when at five we were all soaked in sweat and bewildered by how blessed we were, after the last bus left, for the hotels, leaving us to get home via foot or taxi or sleep under a table on the high soft grass, people started jumping in the pool and when they jumped in I jumped in too. I took off my pants and my shoes which still held currency from a cold and suspicious land and I jumped in – it took so long to land and in the air I saw all the faces! – I jumped with my mouth so open, taking it all in, and the air was cold and the water was so cold but I jumped all the way in, all at once, and my heart froze. Man, I thought that was the end, right there. It stopped for a minute I swear, but then the sound and pictures came back on and for two more interminable and glorious months I lived! We lived!